


Thankful

by tisfan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Cooking, First Kiss, Fluff, Jarvis (Iron Man movies) is a Good Bro, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21649381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: 014 - Thankful Flash Bingo CardBucky is a little careless in the kitchen
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark
Comments: 41
Kudos: 403
Collections: Tony Stark Flash Bingo





	Thankful

The oven’s timer went off with a cheerful double beep. Bucky grabbed a rack of raw cookies, just waiting to go into the oven in his right hand and used the left to open the oven. He decided to forgo using a hot pad. His left hand was metal; he could crush concrete with it, bend steel rebar, surely he could hold a hot cookie sheet for two minutes rather than struggling into an oven mitt and then picking cloth threads out of the joins for an hour before bed, right?

The thing was, it didn’t actually hurt. Bucky’d been burned before, he knew that pain, and this wasn’t anything like that. He gripped the hot tray with one hand, set the cool one in the oven, shut the door and went to lay the tray on the cooling rack.

And couldn’t let go.

“Fuck,” he hissed. He almost shook his hand, like that was going to help anything. 

Grabbed the spatula and flipped the cookies onto the cooling rack. His left fingers still weren’t working, clamped onto the sheet like he was hanging off a cliff.

It took more effort than it should have to take off his apron, but damned if he was going to go down to Tony’s workshop wearing a black apron with an angry cat wrapped in lights on the front, asking “Is this fucking jolly enough for ya?” which Sam had bought him and Bucky used because he still hadn’t gotten around to getting something else.

“JARVIS, is Tony in the shop?”

“As is his habit,” JARVIS answered. “I will make him aware of your… situation.”

“You can just call it dumbassery, that’s true enough,” Bucky said. He was almost to the elevator when the timer dinged. “Fuck.” He raced back to the kitchen, grabbed a hot mitt this time and dropped the second tray on top of the stove. 

Downstairs, he barely rapped on the workshop door when it slid open.

“Hey, snowflake,” Tony said, looking up from his work, the goggles on his face making his eyes look huge and ridiculous. “Jay said you’re having a problem?”

Bucky just waved the tray at him. “Hand’s locked up.”

“Ow,” Tony said, reaching for the tray. “Metal’s still a bit hot, what--”

“Hot pads are a pain in my ass,” Bucky explained. “I get string and cotton stuffin’ all in the finger joins.”

“Oh, well, I’ll see what we can do about that--” Tony said, opening up the panel in Bucky’s bicep and plugging in the diagnostic tool. “Sit down, get yourself comfy while I make with the magic.”

Bucky slouched onto the bar stool he always used whenever he was in the lab, because hunchbacked on a stool was about as far away from laying back in a reclining chair as he could get and still be in a position where someone could work on the arm. Not that Tony had ever done anything that reminded him of Hydra techs, but he didn’t want to take the risk of a flashback and find Tony picking his teeth up off the floor.

Somehow, Tony knew that, too. He talked the whole time he was working, what he was doing, what was wrong, what tool he was going to grab, and in between that were little anecdotes of DUM-E’s latest triumphs (throwing a ball, even if he couldn’t hit anywhere near a basket with it) or little ondits from other affiliated groups that weren’t the Avengers (Johnny Storm came up frequently in those conversations, mostly because he had all the morals of an alley cat and the track record with the ladies of the same).

Bucky could relax; he could let Tony work on the arm, and not freak out.

“So, you uh, flash fried the potentiometers in your fingers, which stuck them in their current position. Easy enough to replace, and you lucky boy, I keep spares of all your parts on hand-- ha ha, on hand.”

“I should tax you for those puns,” Bucky sighed.

“Yeah, you got a penalty in mind?”

“I’m gonna take a liberty, next time you do it,” Bucky threatened.

“What’s that?” Tony said, pulling out a few tiny little parts from one of his endless wall cabinets. “You want me to flash my ankle at you or something?”

“Or somethin’,” Bucky rumbled. []

“I may test that theory,” Tony said, like that was a warning. Despite that, he didn’t make another pun immediately, which Bucky wasn’t sure what that meant. Eventually, he would, because Tony, and Bucky would claim his forfeit, and then at least he could kiss Tony. Once, probably, was all he’d get, but he could make a game out of it, and Tony wouldn’t take it seriously, and wouldn’t feel the need to rebuff Bucky or anything.

So, all in all, a good plan.

He didn’t watch as Tony opened up his knuckles, unscrewing tiny little plates and delicate wires, to install the new-- whatever they weres. Not like Bucky knew, or cared, any more than your average Joe who went to the ER cared about the names of the tiny bones in their hand. _Thank you very much, Sam, no I don’t know how the arm works._

“You know I ‘preciate everything you do, ‘round here,” Bucky said. “Fixin’ my arm, keepin’ us all stocked and geared up. Hell, givin’ us all a home.”

Tony ducked his head a little. “Part and parcel of the whole billionaire gig, really,” he said.

“No, it ain’t,” Bucky said. “I seen some of the billionaires out there, and they don’t do shit with their money except sit on it like some evil Smaug.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Tony said. “I’d like to be a dragon, I think.”

“You’d make a good dragon,” Bucky agreed. “That magic fella, Strange? I think he’d make a better one.”

Tony gave him a flat, unamused look. “I don’t like you anymore.”

“Well, you don’t like me any _less_ , either, so you know, we’re good.” 

“All right, see if you can let that go, Elsa,” Tony suggested, and when Bucky flexed his fingers, they acted normally. The tray clattered to the floor.

“That’s great, thanks so much,” Bucky said.

“Yeah? Make sure you rate our business, two thumbs up,” Tony said. With intent. 

Bucky didn’t know how he could tell that Tony was taunting him, practically daring Bucky to kiss him, but he _was_.

“I said,” Bucky repeated, grabbing a handful of Tony’s shirt and dragging him closer, “no more puns, or I was gonna take a liberty.”

“Is it still a liberty if I _want_ you to--”

Bucky didn’t answer that, tipping his chin and lining his mouth up with Tony’s, catching him mid-word. He took possession of Tony’s mouth with a long, lush kiss, pouring all his interest, his want and desire, his -- well, with the taste of Tony’s lip under his tongue, Bucky might even have to say it was love -- into it. He stroked Tony with his tongue, explored and tasted until they were both panting for breath. 

“Oh,” Tony said, as they stepped back, just a little. “I have to say, I don’t really feel chastised here. Maybe you should do it again, just to make sure I get the point.” He accompanied that with a finger gun. “Or do you think that you have the situation well in hand? Do I need to palm down? Knuckle under?”

“Do I need t’ kiss you stupid?”

“Might take a while,” Tony said. “You’re welcome to try. I’ll even actively participate.”

“JARVIS,” Bucky said. “Privacy level 3, please.”

“My pleasure. And may I add, it’s about time.” 


End file.
